White as Snow
by Mudlark
Summary: A young Koslov struggles to commit to his first icing for the Big family. Cover art by Flakjackal on tumblr. Check him out.


Koslov tried to think of his father's piano back home. The white keys, clean and thick like his own fingers. The black logos, dark as a silhouette. The smooth pedals and their brass shine. The hulking wooden exterior, unyielding under his weight. It was truly a beast. A musical beast.

— _family will hungry! Very hungry my family without me!—_

How the songs that came out of it made the young bear sigh in contempt. When he came home from school, Koslov would stand outside the door and listen to the muffled music as his father played.

Beautiful music.

Wonderful music.

Sometimes the songs were fragile like breaking glass. Other times they were heavy, prowling as they vibrated through the house. Always soothing.

— _want to kill? God not forgive! Only Hell for you!—_

But no matter how quietly he opened the door, his father always heard him enter, and stopped playing. Beauty did nothing for the reputation of a man in his position. The young bear's father refused to teach him the music. So Koslov taught himself. He copied sheets—blueprints to those sweet sounds—by paw, giving them to the music teacher during lunch. The old badger taught him to play _Mary the Little Lamb_. Koslov loved that song. He began to recite it in his head.

 _Marry was a little lamb, her fleece as white as snow. And everywhere little Mary went—_

"Son."

The word snapped him back to reality—to the room and the people in it. It made him aware of many things. The choking tightness of his suit. The drip of water running off icicles. The long, expecting stares of his father and his father's boss. The mouse in his paw, begging for his life in broken English.

Koslov looked down.

Shivering, the mouse sat in the young bear's paw, rubbing his arms and legs for warmth. He had a dark coat of patchy fur. From the accent, it sounded like the mouse was from the desert—the true desert. Like how Koslov's father was from the true tundra lands up north. An immigrant, most likely. It didn't matter to him.

Cold air lapped up from the hole in the floor that lead to ice river. Blue light reflected erratically onto the ceiling and Koslov's face. The water ran slow under the ice, almost at a leisurely pace, but the young bear knew better than that. He knew of the dangerous undertow, the steady current, the chilled depths. It's cold lethality was to be respected.

To the side, Koslov saw his father nod. It was the only encouragement he would get tonight. Sensing the tension, the mouse became feverish. He wailed long, ugly sounds of desperation, the cadence of his cries changing in octaves of fear and despair. It was an awful sound. Nothing like the notes of his father's music.

"P-please let live me! Children! Children! Have children!" he cried, twisting as the young bear's grip tightened around him.

Koslov could feel the panicked breaths clearly in his clenched paw. He wanted the mouse to stop talking. To stop making those hideous sounds. A quick flick of the wrist would be all it took to shut him up. Dump him in, then close the wooden latch overhead. Let the river swallow him and his ugly bawling.

But something held him back. The young bear tried to pry his fingers loose. That was all he had to do. Just let go. Just let go so this night could be over. He wanted so badly to peel off the tight suit and crawl into his bed and shut his eyes tight and forget about this. Just get it over with. He had to.

He _had_ to.

Still, the little mouse wailed those horrible noises as Koslov kneeled at the entrance, rolling up his sleeve. He decided that he would shove the mouse quickly underneath the surface. Koslov wasn't cruel enough to dump him like a piece of trash. Not yet.

"God! God! Please do not! Please do not! No!" he screeched, thrashing wildly, but the bear held tight.

Gritting his teeth, Koslov lowered his paw to the edge of the water. Why couldn't he just shut up? Take his punishment like a man. Why was this so _hard_? He tried reciting the song in his head again, but the rodent's screaming was so loud, so out of tune. It became impossible to think. The struggling, the weeping. He wanted him to stop. Just shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.

Again he recited the lyrics, and again the screaming interrupted his thoughts. Something sharp stabbed into his finger.

"Children! Children! God forgive me!"

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup.

Something snapped, and the room was silent except for the gurgling river water.

Koslov looked down in his paw to see the mouse's body bent maliciously, the neck twisted halfway around. Dead little eyes stared back at him. The bear let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His paws trembled as he released the body into the river. It fell with an insignificant splash.

Vomit bubbled up in his throat. He kept it down by taking large gulps of air. The suit. The suit was too tight, choking him. All those buttons so neat and tight and they were suffocating him. Reaching a paw up, he tore at the fabric, shredding it away from his neck. With a quick tear, he was free. Koslov tried to rise, but a paw on his shoulder kept him on the ground. Turning, he saw his father kneeling beside him, his long face solemn.

"We pay our respects, son," he said, tapping his forehead, sternum, then both of his shoulders.

Koslov brought his paw up to his forehead, only to find one of his fingers stained with blood. The mouse had bitten him. Before he could make a comment, his father nudged his shoulder.

"Respect," he said again, sterner.

The young bear tapped his body in the same order as his father, dragging the bloody finger over the pristine white of his fur.


End file.
